


Christmas Truce

by pook



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-15 11:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15411687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pook/pseuds/pook
Summary: A bit of tongue in cheek Christmas silliness.





	Christmas Truce

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Kat Lady for the beta. 
> 
> Rated Mature for swearing.

‘Shit!’ Chakotay swore to himself. He was angry but he could tell his captain was even angrier. His hands were behind his back, clenched tightly together and his shoulders squared, as he stood rigidly at parade rest. Fleet Marine Regimental Sergeant Major Yorke-Simpkin, his very, very old school, drill commander during his first two months at the Academy would’ve been proud of his ‘at rest’ stance. The RSM had never believed in a relaxed ‘at ease’ stance and God help any underling who hadn’t strained several muscles when standing at rest. Yorke-Simpkin had mastered the art of tearing shreds off officer cadets and could put the fear of God into any little ‘scrote’, which was his favourite nickname for officer wannabes like him, just by a look and definitely by his tone of voice.

Chakotay certainly felt like a scrote right now. Standing in front of his captain’s desk, his eyes were focused on a spot on the wall, just above her head. He was very much aware that making him wait was all part of the impending punishment. It made him stew. It made him think about whatever misdemeanour he may have committed or thought he’d committed. Hell, he’d used the same technique when he’d disciplined the crew. And it was working.

He dare not look at her and certainly not say her first name or even think of using her name; such was the dark and ominous atmosphere that pervaded the room. He’d never seen her look as furious as she’d been not thirty minutes ago in Transporter room one. Her jaw had clenched, her lips had pursed and her brow had creased more than at any time than he’d known her, but even more threatening to everyone in the room had been that she hadn’t said a word. What they say about ‘if looks could kill’ had been very relevant for those in that room. If he could’ve bottled that look, Voyager would’ve been invincible.

Her anger still hadn’t dissipated in the thirty minutes since they’d beamed up. Her jaw muscles still twitched. His anger was on simmer for the moment but hers was still a barely under control boiling maelstrom which made him worry even more.

Chakotay tried to calm down by listening to Mike’s slow breathing. Mike had been standing next to him, waiting as well. Chakotay let his mind wonder, trying to think of anything but what had led them all to be standing in the Ready room. But he couldn’t stop himself thinking about how irate she was. A strange mental picture of smoke billowing forcibly from her ears, as he’d seen once in an angry character in one of Paris’ TV cartoons then suddenly sprang to mind. He bit his tongue in a vain attempt to stop smiling, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his lips quivering.

“Get that smile of your face, mister.” Captain Janeway snarled, without taking her eye off the padd she’d been reading.

‘Holy shit! How did she see me? She’s reading a padd, for fuck’s sake?’ he thought. He quashed any further amusing images from his mind as he strained muscles to stand even more stiffly ‘at ease’.

He didn’t even try to say ‘Yes, Captain.’ He’d soon realised not to even attempt to talk with her in her current mood after he’d tried to say something while they’d been treated in Sickbay. The combined effects of her death glare, one hand on her hip, her other hand swollen and already turning a horrible shade of purple, blood dripping from a small head wound and a deep throaty growl of ‘Quiet!’ had the Doctor and Chakotay jumping back. After her demand for silence, nobody had said a word. The Doctor and Tom hadn’t said anything either for fear of their own existences and had treated the members of the Away team in silence.

Chakotay had reported to her Ready room as ordered after being treated at Sickbay for his minor injuries. The Bridge crew had all sympathized with him and he’d remembered Tom had weakly smiled at him as he’d approached her inner sanctum. The helmsman had pitied poor Chakotay but had been glad it wasn’t him that was going to receive the shellacking from the captain. It had taken Tom several days to clean the stains from his uniform pants the day he’d had his one and only one.

Snapping back to reality, Chakotay thought he’d better go over the entire sordid incident again. To get his version of the facts right before the captain spoke about what had really happened.

Voyager had been orbiting a strangely, for the Delta Quadrant that is, quiet pleasant and peaceful planet. The trade negotiations had been very genteel, calm and considered. The captain, Lt. Ayala and Chakotay had beamed to the planet to visit the Trade Ministry to finalize the trade for the spare parts required for the ship. All their discussions had proved to be beneficial. An added bonus had been when a minor functionary had suggested that they should visit the trade markets. He’d suggested that they might find some of the parts not supplied to them by the Ministry.

Grateful for the tip, the trio had walked the short distance from the Trade Ministry to the open-air markets. Unfortunately, for them, they’d taken a wrong turn shortly after they’d entered the narrow and twisting lanes of the market. Instead of aliens in endless stalls of stripped mechanical bits and pieces, they’d turned into the equivalent of the red light district but in a rather nice shade of teal blue.

Bright neon signs flicked on and off and loud doosh doosh music blared as various aliens had rushed passed them to see and partake in their wares before them, but not the Starfleet officers. They’d walked for about fifteen metres before it finally dawned on them where they were and then they’d stopped dead. Regrettably, for only one of the party, they’d halted right in front of two naked alien girls dancing in a window. Kathryn had recovered the quickest, which hadn’t surprised her, and had turned smartly to walk back to the engineering side of the markets leaving the men still staring at the gyrating dancers, which again hadn’t surprised her.

Chakotay remembered he’d been transfixed by the pink skinned dancer and her voluptuous body. He’d only stopped ogling and closed his mouth when he’d heard Kathryn’s command voice, threatening someone with a string of invective made up of mostly Klingon swear words with a few others thrown in as well. It would’ve even impressed B’Elanna.

Mike and Chakotay had turned to see their captain surrounded by four aliens in military uniforms. Another loud set of exchanges followed where the aliens had told her exactly what they’d wanted her to do for them, then she’d immediately retorted telling them where they could put their very tiny penises and then they’d both questioned each other’s parentages at the same time.

The final straw, as far as the captain had been concerned, had been when one of the aliens had said Voyager was a garbage scow captained by an old hag of a woman who’d never been fucked or at the very least needed a good one, preferably by them. The poor aliens hadn’t known that she was that old hag so she’d shoved the offending alien back against a wall and told him to take that back. One of his friends hadn’t appreciated that and had grabbed Janeway’s arm, spinning her around.

Mike and Chakotay were stunned because in a flash, Kathryn’s right arm had cocked back so quickly and she’d let fly with a right hook so fast that the poor alien hadn’t known what had hit had him. A cloud of brown blood had then sprayed across the gleaming white uniforms of his friends and then it was on for young and old.

Kathryn had gotten off another few good punches and kicks before she’d been hit. Dazed for a second, she’d staggered against a wall and had cut her head on a windowsill. She had turned back ready to face the onrushing aliens when finally Chakotay and Mike had appeared.

It’s what had happened next that Chakotay suddenly realized had been their error. They’d each grabbed an alien and had dealt with them quick smart. Before facing the remaining ones, Chakotay had pushed Kathryn out of the way and said to her that they’d handle them. It had all ended a short time later.

Chakotay had originally thought that the fire in her eyes had been from the adrenaline of the fight but soon changed his mind when they’d followed her as she’d stomped her way out of the lane back into the trade area. Her icy tone as she’d ordered a transport back to the ship sent a chill through the air that went all the way up to Voyager.

He closed his eyes and wondered how stupid he’d been. Sighing, he wasn’t sure if Mike had come to the same conclusion. But then the more he thought about it the more his anger returned. Why had she been involved in a verbal stoush with four burly aliens in the first place? Street fighting at her age? She’s a captain, for heaven’s sake. She could’ve been killed. She had given up a good foot of height and at least ten pounds to the aliens. That first punch probably broke her hand. Spirits, she could be the most stupid, brave, and stubborn person all wound into one that he’d ever known.

He hadn’t seen Kathryn look up from her padd.

“Commander, Lieutenant. Finally. I hope you’ve realized your mistake. Don’t do it again.”

Unlike Chakotay, Mike was sensible and recognized that she’d given them only a minor dressing down. He came to attention. “Yes, Captain.”

“Dismissed.” Kathryn nodded.

“Thank you very much, Captain.” Mike had been in Starfleet long enough before joining the Maquis to know when to lay it on thick as he’d just done. He turned around and marched out of the room. A wry grin grew on his mouth; knowing he’d gotten off virtually Scot free, considering how angry she’d been and what could’ve been the alternative.

Chakotay shook his head in disbelief. He was still angry over her actions. It was his job as First Officer to protect her, even if it went against her judgement. She couldn’t be a cowboy like James T. Kirk. She was much too valuable to Voyager and to him. He had to try and explain of that. “Permission to speak freely, Captain?”

“Granted.”

Chakotay didn’t bother with niceties. He went straight to the jugular with his explanation of his actions and what had been wrong with hers. What followed could’ve been best described as a frank and open discussion and exchange of views in Starfleet parlance. He would’ve said more accurately that it degenerated into a stand up argument between the two very quickly. Back and forth it went and it had more than cleared the proverbial air between them. They knew exactly how the other felt. At one stage, he’d wondered how good the soundproofing was in the Ready room.

Finally, Kathryn had had enough. Fearing she might say something she would regret later, she turned away and sat down at her desk. She was tired from the argument and worn-out from the fight and the day in general. She rubbed her face and looked at her screen. Her schedule for tomorrow had just popped up. She pinched her nose as she remembered what time of the year it was. She’d been so angry at everything that happened on the planet and then so caught up in the argument that she’d completely forgotten it was Christmas Eve. “Chakotay, please stop.”

Chakotay watched her turn away, shoulders slumped then sit at her desk. He had been expressing a point of view but as soon as he heard her plea, he stopped.

“Read this.” Kathryn spun her computer around for him to read and waited for him to read it. “I remember something from history lessons at high school where, during the World War I and II, there had been truces around this time between the warring factions.”

Chakotay nodded as he vaguely remembered it as well.

“I’m calling a Christmas truce.”

He had no wish to continue the argument. “I’ll agree to that.”

“Good.”

Chakotay immediately noticed the change in the atmosphere in the room. He felt comfortable enough to reach across the table to hold her hand. “I think I got a bit carried away. I didn’t mean to push you so hard. Sorry …”

“I’m sorry too.” Kathryn ran her thumb over the back of her hand and smiled. “You promise not to treat me like a damsel in distress and I’ll try not to be too like Kirk.”

An image of Kathryn with her jacket ripped open like Kirk popped in his mind, just revealing enough chest to tease him. Chakotay tried not to laugh but couldn’t help grinning with full dimples. “I’ll try to curb my inner shining knight.”

“Okay but don’t forget your inner caveman.” Kathryn laughed. “Or should I dye my skin pink?”

Chakotay smiled weakly, a little embarrassed about ogling the dancer.

“It’s okay. I suppose you can look but not touch as Aunt Martha used to say.” She squeezed his hand

“We could make it an armistice.” Chakotay said hopefully. They hadn’t had very many toe-to-toe professional arguments like that one. He never liked to argue with her.

“It’s a possibility.” She lowered her voice and said with a gleam in her eye, “But if we call an end to the war, we won’t have anymore make up sessions after the battles, will we?”

Chakotay didn’t have to think about what that meant for too long. “I see your point. Truce it is.”

Kathryn smirked. “You better get back to the Bridge before Tuvok wonders if I’ve killed you because it’s gone so quiet.”

“Right. I’ll see you at home?”

“Sure. I’ve a few reports to go through then a meeting with B’Elanna. I should be home around 1800.”

“Great. I’ll have dinner ready.” Chakotay grinned. “See? I’m not a Neanderthal all the time. I do all the cooking.”

Kathryn pointed to the door. “Go.”

“Uggh, Captain.” Chakotay crunched down and walked out like a caveman.

Kathryn laughed then returned to reading the reports.


End file.
